


the end of the world

by sagemb



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Lives, beach trips, minor Spider-Man: Far From Home Spoilers, our children are the future, peter's summer before college, unconventional narration style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagemb/pseuds/sagemb
Summary: Tony and Peter. A car, a pair of glasses. The beach.





	the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> I was lazy about writing full sentences, so I decided to be a very cheap and terrible James Joyce knockoff. Obviously it turned out to be harder than I originally thought it'd be.
> 
> This fic is not Endgame or Far From Home compliant. It borrows some themes and elements from Far From Home, so there are some very mild spoilers, but no plot spoilers whatsoever.

-Oh, you're vlogging again. I wondered what happened to that.

-It was just a hobby I was trying to pick up at the time.

A car. An Audi e-tron GT, specifically. The Southern State Parkway; the hottest part of the afternoon in mid-August. Tony Stark in an MIT T-shirt and baseball cap. Sandals and swim trunks. Himself in much the same. Cold air blasting through the vents and Led Zeppelin through the speakers.

-Never got to see the one from Germany. Send it to me. If you finished it.

-Yeah I will. Might have to dig it up though... that was from freshman year. Jeez.

August—ninety degrees—the beach. They arrive. Everything is scorching and he feels it all: heat rising off the parking lot asphalt, the car door as he slams it shut, the wood of the boardwalk. The low sun makes everything red. God it is so bright.

He taps out of his camera app and puts the phone down. Sea air chills his sweat-dotted back.

-Here. Put these on —

— a pair of sunglasses put into his hand —

- Oh hey aren’t these yours?

-Hm. I’ve got another pair. We’re pretty much already matching, might as well go all in. See? Wow this is tacky. I’ve always hated people like us. Look at us. We’re the same. Ma’am! Excuse me ma’am. Would you mind getting a photo of us? Yeah, here’s just fine.

Tony wraps an arm around Peter. Peace signs from both of them, up high. The woman’s finger hits the shutter one, two, three, four times.

-Thank you so much.

-My pleasure. You boys are real cute. Have a good time.

-Thanks, you too.

The beach is fairly empty for the hour. Shoes off, stuff down. He breaks into a sprint.

-Kid! Slow down!

-I’m gonna run into the ocean!

The water hits him stinging cold. Feet raw from hot sand. Every step:  _ spelunk. _ Righting himself against the tide. Up to his knees, his thighs. A new wave coming in; a spray of water to the face. In his mouth burning and salty. He laughs, his face split so wide in a grin it hurts. He cannot help it. He laughs and chokes on another gulp of rotten water, coughs his lungs out and still laughs.

Something inside him holds up a mirror to the ocean, its roaring and raging and crashing, and says  _ I am alive too. _ He has always been like this, as long as he can remember. As a child, nearly drowning, still running back into the waves.

Slowly he feels his toes leave the ocean floor. Water as far and wide as he can see, nothing like the city and its narrow sky. The fear thrills him. He watches every wave that comes. Floats on top of it.

Then he twists around and looks back at the beach. Tony stands watching. Small from this far away, this frail-looking father. Cradling his damaged left arm. 

Suddenly Peter misses the shore.

He lets himself float back till his toes touch. Keeps walking. Water leaking out of his clothes, his hair. Shaking himself like a dog, kicking up sand to make his way back to Tony, husband of Pepper, father of Morgan, not-quite-lookalike of himself.

-Hi, Peter says.

Tony: fondness in his eyes.

-You like the ocean, huh.

-Yeah.

-Wait. Before you sit.

A thin disc in Tony’s grasp. Flipped like a coin it shimmers and spreads. Hits the ground as a beach towel.

-You’re the most extra person alive.

-Yeah hi, I’m Tony Stark, if you hadn’t noticed.

-We literally just decided to go to the beach like four hours ago. How do you even think of these things?

-I’m a genius. I improvise. I adapt. Also  I hate sand.

-Hi Anakin.

-Oh shut up. It’s not like anyone likes sand. Shit gets everywhere.

-I know. I can feel it in between my ass cheeks already.

-Do not talk to me about your ass cheeks.

-You’re ass cheeks, Peter chokes through a laugh.

-Stop. You and Morgan are the same. The other day I told her, you gotta eat your toast if you want ice cream later. She says, you’re toast.

-I’ve been telling you she’s got the intelligence of a college student.

-Or you’ve got the maturity of a five year old. Hey. So about the glasses.

Peter puts them back on.

-Yeah?

-Say: hi, Erica.

-Hi Erica.

-Hello. Scanning biometrics. User authorized. Welcome, Peter Parker.

-Holy shit.

-That’s E-R-I-K-A. Even Retired I’m Kickin’ Ass.

-Oh that’s a good one.

-Isn’t it? I’m proud of that one. ERIKA manages all my security and weapons protocols. She isn’t like Karen or Friday. No machine learning capability. She responds to commands only. No chance of her ordering a drone strike on her own. Safer that way.

A pause.

-She’s yours.

-What?

-Well, technically she’s ours. She’s designed for multi-user interaction. In case I need to… what does Ned call it? Be your guy in the chair.

-Tony.

Faint buzzing in the back of his mind.

-Tony are you serious you can't you can't do this this isn’t mine.

-Peter. Hey. Look at me. Seriously, look at me.

Slowly his eyes meet Tony's.

-I can't fight anymore. I'm fifty-three, my joints are fucked to hell, and I've got so much nerve damage that I can barely move my left hand. I can't get in a suit again. What I can do is hand off the baton. Set things up for the future. For you.

-Ah. Ah God.

-You're not gonna be alone, Pete. I'll be here with you. That's what this is for. You won't be alone.

-Tony I…

His hands are shaking. Tony wraps his arms around him without question.

-I know. It's a lot. You deserve to be a kid, you deserve to be a normal college student when September comes. Make a mess. Get drunk when you should be studying. Figure yourself out. You deserve that more than anyone else. But this is the way things are.

-Because I'm Spider-Man.

-Right. Because you're Spider-Man. Nick Fury's been calling me about you, you know. A lot of people have. And I—I wish I could shield you from it all. But I can't forever. Sooner or later you'll be making the hard calls. The best I can do is teach you how.

He swallows dry-throated. Draws back from Tony.

-You've been teaching me for a while.

-Yeah I have.

-Thank you.

-It's what I have to do, kid. You're a burden I take willingly.

-Thanks.

-I tell that to Morgan too. I'm a great dad.

Peter laughs and knows this as an unquestionable truth.

-Things have come a long way, kid. World’s a lot different from when I was your age. Some part of me is glad that you grew up with it. Got used to it from an early age.

-A lot of it was you. Iron Man.

-Yeah. I know. As much as I hate hearing it. You know, it feels like just yesterday I walked out of that cave in Afghanistan. I've never seen anything as bright as desert day after 12 weeks without sun.

-Feels like just yesterday I was fourteen, he offers. A lot happened when I was fourteen.

-I know, kid.

In the sand without shoes on, they are the same height.

**Author's Note:**

> Last year in the middle of August, my father and I got in the car and started driving.
> 
> Title derived from a nickname that Long Island residents have for Montauk, which according to Wikitravel is "The End".
> 
> ERIKA > EDITH
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://3wworms.tumblr.com).


End file.
